Princess Fire
by Skillet'66
Summary: Primrose Everdeen is drawn as tribute for the 74th Hunger Games, and Katniss stands speechless. Will her necklace be enough to get her through, or will another victor rise and take Prim's place, killing her in the process? NOT A SLASH AND IT WILL NEVER BE
1. Chapter 1 Prolouge: Reaped

_**Princess Fire**_

**Summery:**** Primrose Everdeen is drawn as tribute for the 74th Hunger Games, and Katniss stands speechless. Will her necklace be enough to get her through, or will another victor rise and take her place, killing her in the process?**

**A/N:**** My title and summery might change. I'm not sure. This is my first fanfiction. I've always wondered what would happen if Prim was in the Games, and I'm not telling you why I finally wrote this because it would totally give a spoiler for **_**Mockingjay**_**. A spoiler that I read online and was still fascinated by when it occured. Suzanne Collins has that affect, I presume. **

**This is a little off from the book, but I didn't want it to be exactly alike. People could've said different things, and so I made them say different things, but I like some parts of the book, and I kept those. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer****: I don't own **_**The Hunger Games.**_

_**Chapter 1: Reaped**_

I was under the sheets with my mom. Last night I had a nightmare, but I had a good reason. Today was the reaping. I've never been under the pressure of going through the reaping before. It may seem like no big deal to some-you have everyone's names in a big, glass bowl, and Effie Trinket says some stuff and draws a name-but it's really what happens _after_ the reaping that gets me. The Hunger Games.

It's a big, "joyful" event that everyone except the people in District 2 and the Capitol despises. I'm not supposed to be nervous. My name is supposvely in the reaping ball once, but I signed up for tessera. Two times. That means my name will be in there three times. Three times the chance that I'll be in the Games. The suspense is killing me.

I sigh and make my way to the shower. I take a quick shower because our water is never warm; it's always freezing. I see that my big sister, Katniss, has taken the cheese I left her and her best friend, Gale, on the table. She's probably with him right now; they're probably both hunting away their sorrows, just as my father used to. He died in a mining accident sometime back. Katniss still has nightmares about the accident. So do I.

I eat a nice breakfast. Katniss says eating nice is good to hide your worries about the reaping. Then I go check on my cat, Buttercup. He and Katniss don't get along all that well, but that's okay. Mother is at the table by the time I get back from feeding Buttercup. "Good morning, Prim," She tells me.

"Morning, Mother," I respond.

"Can you take this medicine down to Mrs. Miller? It's supposed to calm her down for the reaping. It's a good thing she ordered it a month prior; it's so rare that it took me forever to find."

"Yes, Mother, isn't she usually in the Hob?" Mother nods and I head out the door, Mrs. Miller's medicine in hand.

The Hob is like a black market. I don't go there often, but Katniss and Gale trade their game there. Greasy Sae is one of their favorite people, so I stop by and tell her good morning. "Good morning, little Everdeen," She says. "Has your sister left for hunting? Those two are my best customers by far."

"Yes, ma'am, they're probably coming here with an armful before the reaping." I smile.

"Of course," she smiles back at me, "How many time's is the boy's name in? Fifty times, I bet. Do you want to bet?" Her grin grows wider so I know she's teasing. You can either laugh about the Games or hide from them in fear. I choose to laugh, along with many others.

"No thanks, Sae. You know I'd win." She laughs and I stroll of back to my best friend's house. She's been my best friend since I can remember. Her father died with mine in the coal mining accident. She looks a lot like her mother, though. Her dark brown hair and forest-green eyes give the regular Seam look. "Hi, Cupiss," I say after knocking on the door. She was named after an angel. I don't think it was a real angel. The angel's name was Cupid. Cupiss' parents came up with it; I think her mother's from the Capitol.

"Hey, Prim. We can go to the opening for a few minutes before the reaping." She tells me. The opening is what we call the big, grassy place near the school. A lot of kids hang out there. Cue (That's what I call her) and I have a hidden cave we made out of rocks in the cluster of trees near the fence. It's a nice spot to relax. We talk small, in fear that one of us will be drawn. It's our first year. I hope next year I won't be this nervous.

When I get home, my mother is waiting for me. I give her a grim smile as she tells me where our clothes are. My outfit is a nice blouse and an equally described skirt. I think it was Katniss' first clothes for the reaping. Perhaps it will bring me good luck. If she didn't get drawn, then I surely won't get drawn. "What are you going to do with my hair?" I ask Mother. I already know what she's going to do, but I ask anyway.

"It's a surprise," she whispers, her small tears running down her cheeks. I frown. Why must she worry? I'm not going to get drawn, right? I'm not going to get drawn. I'm not.

My blonde hair is put up into two braids. This is probably what Katniss looked like when she was in the first reaping. Except for the looks. I have blonde hair and blue eyes, like my mother. It's a rare thing to find here in District 12, or the Seam as it was nicknamed. Katniss's looks are much like my father's. With dark brown hair and tangy, coffee-colored eyes, she looks like a regular Seam person.

When Katniss comes in after a hard morning's hunt, she looks a little tired in the eyes, but when Mother's finished with her, you can barely tell it was her in the first place. She has on one of Mother's blue dresses. Her hair is put up in a nice, single braid. "You look beautiful," I tell her because, really, she does.

"And nothing like myself," is her response, including a hug and a smile. I smile back. We'll be okay. I know it now.

When we arrive in the town square, everyone has already taken their place in the fences surrounding each group. There are fourteen in all; Girls are on one side, and boys are on the other. The ages range between twelve and eighteen. Katniss hugs me as I turn to go towards the twelve-year-old girls. "May the odds be ever in your favor," she jokes in a ridiculously funny Capitol accent, a smile appearing on her face.

"Thanks, Katniss. Good luck to you, too." I smile.

"Thanks," She walks away.

I go to Cupiss. She doesn't look as nervous as I feel. She's not great at hiding her emotions, but then again, she comes from a wealthier part of the Seam. She might've not gotten a tessera. She probably wouldn't even know what it was if it weren't for the lessons we have on the Hunger Games every year. "Prim!" She calls.

"Hi, Cue." I say with a smile. "Are you as ready as I am to get this over with?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" We talk for a while, waiting anxiously for Effie Trinket to step on the stage with her ridiculous Capitol customs. She eventually does, dressed in a big, pink suit. Her whole skin is dyed a sugary cherry color. Strange people they are.

"Welcome, welcome!" Effie says. She gives a long speech that I've heard in school only a thousand and two times. After quite some time she begins with what we've been waiting for. Her odd Capitol manners take over, and she says, "Ladies first!" I know what the time has come for. Who will it be? It could be Cupiss. It could be Katniss. Maybe it's someone I don't even know. The guilt would still take over. I don't know them, I don't feel anything, and it makes me feel so bad, but I have to suck it up.

I never expected the words to come out of her mouth. Effie picks up a small sheet of white paper. She opens it and smiles at the young tribute's name. "Primrose Everdeen!"

At first I didn't believe it, but seconds later I accepted the hard fact. I look at Cupiss and head towards the stairs. _I don't want to be here_, I think. _Someone help me, _please_!_ Katniss steps out of line. "Prim!" She yells. I can't respond. "Stop!" She calls. "P-Stop! Prim! Let me go!" I hear her struggle, fighting against the so-called Peacekeepers who are taking her away.

"Come on, Catnip," I hear a rough voice whisper. I know who it is. Partially by his voice and the other part by the name he calls Katniss. It's Gale.

"Ah, it seems we have a sister who wants the glory! Can't have sister taking the fame, can we?" Stupid Effie. I grin anyways. It's fake, but no one can tell. I nod.

"And now for the boy tribute!" Effie calls to the audience. I catch Gale's eye-_Please don't call Gale. Please-_but the name called is far worse than Gale's. "Peeta Mellark!"

I switch from Gale's eyes to Katniss. She has the look of pure horror on her face. I've heard her story. I know exactly who this boy is. She had a dream-a nightmare-and she told me she needed someone to tell the story to. I was that someone.

"You two look quite a lot alike," Effie whispers in my ear. _Smile and nod._ I tell myself. So I do. Peeta and I shake hands. We both look the same. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. He's dressed nicely. And we both have the same, true look of hidden terror on our face.

_**End Of Chapter 1: Reaped**_

**A/N:**** Did you enjoy it? I'll never know what you think unless you review. I'm not Angel or Nudge from Maximum Ride; I can't read minds or hack computers. So, please review and leave advice or reviews or thoughts or whatever. Thanks for reading!**

**P.S:**** I totally made up Prim's friend's name. I don't even know I came up with it. Haha.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Necklace

_**Princess Fire**_

**A/N:**** Okay, think of that last chapter like a prolouge or something. I don't plan on all my other chapters being that short. **

**Sandpiper01-**** Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad you like it, and I definitely agree.**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**The Hunger Games**_

_**Chapter 2: The Necklace**_

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><p>I sat on an expensive, lush couch in an equally expensive and lush room. It was a dark crimson, fading and glowing with a wipe of a hand on the fabric. Tears were immediatly soaked into the seat as they fell. Much like my life in the Games. There was a knock on the door, and my mother came in. Her footsteps were slow and quiet, yet seemed to pound on the floor through the tension in the room. "Prim,"<p>

"I guess this is good-bye." I tell her. "I don't want to die, Mommy." I look at her through tear-filled eyes. I try not to cry, but I can't help it. She wraps her arms around my neck and sits on the couch with me. I haven't called my mother 'mommy' in years. She can't tell me that I'm not going to die because, truth is, I will.

"Prim, you have to try."

I stare at Mother for a while. I want to make it out, but how can I? It's impossible. Twenty-four go in the Games, and only one comes out, and that one is not going to be me. I'm twelve years old! Some of those people are eighteen! "How?"

She sighs. "I don't exactly know, but you have to. Please? Promise me, right here, that you'll try to come home." I can see the seriousness in her eyes.

"I promise," I whisper, trying to work up all the strength inside._ I can't, though._ I tell her inside. _I can't kill anyone! You think that killing's wrong! That's what you said._ But I realize by making me promise I'll try, she's erasing the facts of everyday life and drawing facts of survival.

"Thank you," I notice that as she wraps one arm around me, her free hand digs inside her coat pocket. "Here," she tells me, holding out a small box. "It was supposed to be your birthday present, but I think you'll want it now." I take the box from her hands and open it. Inside is something so precious and dear to my mother that I gasp, knowing that she gave it to me. It's the necklace my father gave her for their anniversery, days before the mining accident.

"Oh my God," I whisper. "Mother, it's beautiful." It was a small, royal purple heart on a silver chain. The kind of purple that kings and queens wore thousands and thousands of years ago. The heart appeared to be on fire. The flames were the same purple, tinted with a little blue. Gold topped the flames. It was, truly, beautiful. "Thank you." I wrap her in a hug. She rubs my back, and I let a few tears fall. I'm twelve. I'm not supposed to be tough, but I have to try. For her.

"I have to go. You promise right?" Mother stands up and flattens out her dress, sadness refilled her eyes.

"Of course," I say. "I'll see you soon." She smiles at my words and exits, leaving me alone with a beautiful necklace. The silence doesn't last long, though, so I put the necklace under a pillow. Someone surprising enters. It's Gale.

"Hi, Prim," He says. A mixture of sadness, unbelief, confusion, and a hint of overwhelming create his expression, much like my own.

"I just can't believe it." I tell him, looking up from the damp spot on the couch that my tears from Mother's visit have filled.

"Me either," He sits beside me. "I promise to look after Lady. Katniss won't be smart enough." I look at him and smile.

"Thanks, Gale," I'm thanking him for more than just promising to take care of my goat; I'm thanking him for trying to cheer me up. He usually cheers me up when I'm down. For example, when he actually got my goat for me. Or when Buttercup ran away for a week. He told me it was hiding from Katniss, and made fun of her. It was really ironic, though, because Gale's nickname for Katniss is Catnip.

"Any time, kiddo," Gale looks at me for a minute, studying the look in my eyes.

"You're going to try, aren't you?" I nod, a tear falling from my closed eyes that focus on the floor.

"Good. Now I know someone's on my side."

I can't figure out what he means, but it doesn't matter because he gives me a quick hug and walks out the door. I sigh. Typical. A hyper Cupiss enters, carrying a petal from a rose.

"Oh my gosh, Prim! I couldn't believe it! Was that your sister? I bet it was. She doesn't look like you, though. She must look like your dad. Who was that beside her? Did he call her Catnip? Eew. That's weird." I wanted to scream "Shut up!" at her, but I did the oppisite. I got up and hugged her.

"I guess this is good-bye," I whisper.

"No it's not." She says, holding out the petal. "Mother grew these a few days ago. Buttercup sneaked out and tore them up, but there's this last petal. Weren't you named after a primrose?" I nod, taking the red rose petal and rubbing it between my hands. It feels nice. A different kind of texture, but it's nice.

"Thanks,"

"I'm being real, Prim. You're going to come out of there." I nod. _No I'm not._

"There's twenty-four of us. Only one comes out." I hate to ruin the spirits, but _I_ have to be real, and, chances are, I'm not coming out.

Cupiss nods. "I know, but . . ." She sighs, not knowing what to say. "Sorry. Just forget it. Good-bye, forever, Prim."

Her words sting. It make me feel horrible. Unwanted. Furious. Disastrous. _I'll show you. I can come out. I'll make it. _But the other me takes over, brings me down, tears me up. _Good-bye, Cupiss. I'll never see you again. _It hurts. That's the only way I can put it. Angonizing pain, no. Mental pain that infultrates my brain, my body, and takes over, puts me to sleep, making me feel as if I am horrible, unwanted, furious, and disastrous, yes. And it hurts.

My last visitor is the person I want to see most. "Prim! Prim, I'm so sorry!" She was trying not to cry.

"Okay," I said, my voice cracking. Tears and sobs streamed out. Sorrows were the least of my problems. Now I know, somewhat, how I will die. There are still a few questions, though. Who will kill me? When will I die? How painful will it be? How fast will it be? I know that I'll never make it home.

Katniss breaks after a few minutes of my tears. "I'm so sorry," she continues to whisper, holding me tight and stroking my hair.

"There has to be something I can do," I say, my voice quiet. "I want to come home again. I don't want to . . . die." I can barely struggle the words out. Just thinking about it haunts me.

"Prim," Katniss says, "I just want you to know I wanted to volunteer. I couldn't, though. The words . . . they couldn't come out." I understand. If I had a little sister (and some knowledge with a bow), I would want to stand up, to take her place, if she was drawn for the Games. I would try, but I couldn't. To put yourself on death row is something no one can do.

"I believe you," I tell her as she lightly pushes my head on her shoulder. "Katniss, there's something that I have to tell you, too, but your not going to like it." I run it over and over again in my mind, playing and replaying what could happen, what could go wrong.

She wipes away the last tear that's going to fall, and her natural color returns instead of the red glow given off earlier. "What?"

I take in a breath and look around the room before answering. "I signed up for tessera." My voice is tiny, weak.

Hers is anything but. "You what!" She screams. "Prim, how could you! I told you not to!" She screams at me repeatedly. I can't take it. I can feel my eyes grow wide. She yells and screams continuously. A tear falls down my cheek. She notices, and stops immediately. "Prim . . ." Peacekeepers fill the room. "Prim-" I'll never know what she wants to tell me, because the Peacekeepers have, once again, taken my sister away from me. Forever.

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><p>The Peacekeepers hussle me away to the train station, where cameras and people swarm like tracker-jackers around Peeta and me. I tried to wipe my tears away, but Peeta didn't. I remember someone doing something like that one year. Johanna Mason, a District 7, wound up winning. She pretened to be so weak and frail that no one bothered with her. She ended up killing everyone. Don't judge a book by it's cover. I catch a view of myself on camera. My face is a little red, my eyes slightly dialated, but other than that, I look completely normal. Overwhelmed, though, yes. Very.<p>

Effie Trinket greets me on the train and shows me to my room. "Make yourself comfortable, Prim. Everything is at hand. Do anything; wear anything, just be ready for dinner in an hour." Do anything; wear anything. Okay. I take off my clothes, and toss them in the hamper. I choose a soft, baby blue button-up and a khaki skirt. It's my usual wear. Then, I lay on the bed and stare into the celing for an hour. I think about Katniss. She hates me. Cupiss, she does, too. Mother is probably consoling Katniss right now. I wonder what they're doing. Maybe Gale is half celebrating, half weeping. It was his last reaping, and he wasn't drawn. He doesn't know about Peeta. Katniss only told me. I don't even know how I remember.

I think about Posy, Gale's little sister. She and I like to play together on rainy days. Gale brings her over to our house. What is she doing? Is she upset that I was drawn? Oh no! Poor Posy! She's going to take it the wrong way. She'll live in fear of the reaping, seeing that one of her friends was drawn. She's going wild. She's crying.

What about Mother? What's she doing? Is she working with a paitent? What I would give to be home right now, working with her. It's hard work, true. Some paitents cuss me out. Mostly the old, rich drunks who don't give anything. Some of the drunks vomit when we work with them. Then there are the paitents who won't hold still. Oh, it drives me nuts! It breaks my heart to see the youth come into our dining room. The most horrible expierience was the mining accident. Mother and I worked on Father. We were with him when he died. I can only imagine what he would do if he were here now.

Finally, I get up and head into the dining compartment.

"There you are, Prim." Effie sings. "Have you seen Haymitch, any of you?"

I shake my head. "No," Peeta says.

Effie sighs. "I presume it won't matter in the end, will it? No. Let's go ahead and eat." Dinner is fantastic. A thick carrot soup. Crisp, green salad. Lamb chops and mashed potatoes. Cheese and friut. A _chocalate cake! _Effie reminds us throughout the meal to save room for more, but I can barely contain myself. I've never seen so much food in one place, and it's all so good. Every single piece. I savor each flavor, each bite, each delecacy.

"At least you two have decent manners." Effie says. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like savages. It completely upset my digestion." She frowns at the last part, probably remembering one of my friends who died last year.

Yes, a poor, filthy girl with the complete Seam look is one of my friends. She was fifteen, but very small for her age. Thus, we bacame quick friends outside of school. Laura Miller. In no way related to Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller was a rich woman from the wealthy part of the Seam. That's why she could afford the medicine Mother told me to give to her. Her young son was entered into the reaping, and she was probably nervous. Still, I was upset by her comment and stopped eating entirely. I only played with my fork and looked at my food. I ate too much, anyways, already. Goodness, this is a lot of food. After eating, Effie shows Peeta and I to another compartment, where we'll watch the recaps of the reapings.

One by one, the reapings are shown. One boy and girl from each District are called. Some have volunteers, but it's the Careers, so I don't truly care. Some stand out to me, and I take note of them. A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from 2. The fox-faced girl with smooth red hair from District 5. District 10's is a boy with a crippled foot and no volunteers. But most haunting is a twelve-year-old from 11. With dark brown skin and eyes, she makes me think of Katniss. If she had volunteered, right now she'd be thinking of me. I bet she will think of me when she sees the girl.

Finally, they show the reapings of 12. Effie pulls my name out of the ball. "Primrose Everdeen!" There's a slight pause, but I start walking to the stairs. Katniss goes wild and calls my name, and the Peacekeepers come up and hold her down. Still, she calls my name. That's when Gale comes up and tells her something I can't hear for the buzzing the cheap cameras make. Peeta's name is drawn. We shake hands. The screen goes off.

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior." I hadn't known that Haymitch, the only surviving of 12's two victors, had passed out on stage, drunk. I remember it happening, but yet, I don't.

Peeta gives a small laugh. "He was drunk. He's drunk every year." He says.

"Every day," I can't help but add. I grin a little, too. Effie just wants to correct Haymitch with a few tips of her own.

"Yes," she hisses, "How odd you two find it amusing. You realize your mentor can very well mean your sponsers. He could be the difference between your life and death!"

Haymitch staggers in just then. He's drunk. _Every day._ "I miss supper?" His voice is slurred like every other time he talks. Then he vomits all over the carpet and drops into the mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie screams. She hops around the pool of green and dashes out of the room.

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><p><em><strong>End Of Chapter 2: The Necklace<strong>_

**A/N:**** See? I kept some parts. I never really got a good background on Prim. So I made up most of that stuff. My mom's a nurse and she tells me about work. I get a pretty good background on nurses. I hope it sounds realistic. **

**I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3: Haymitch & Cinna

_**Princess Fire**_

**TwilightxHPotterxPJackson-**** Thanks so much!**

**ioo-**** Thank you so much! I have a lot planned for that. I think this chapter is going to have them in the Capitol. **

_**Chapter 3: Haymitch & Cinna**_

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><p>For a few moments, Peeta and I look at the scene of our mentor, our difference between life and death, laying in the pool of the vile, green substance. I groan in my head and get up. <em>Again,<em> I think, _Just last week Mr. Miller did the same! _Peeta joins me and we each take one of his arms. "I tripped?" Haymitch asks, wiping his nose. "Smells bad," His hand wound up going all over his face, and vomit was spread everywhere on him.

"Let's clean you up," Peeta says. We half-lead, half-carry Haymitch to his room. I was surprised at my strength, but I suppose it comes from working with my mother so much. We set him in the bathtub, and I turn the water on. "I'll take it from here," Peeta tells me.

"Are you sure?" I ask. I do feel a little grateful, but maybe Peeta is trying to impress Haymitch. I figure it won't matter much, though, because he's so drunk that remembering Peeta will be impossible.

"I'm sure. You . . ."

"I do it a lot."

He looks surprised. How can he forget the mining accident? Half of the people were in our house. Then I remembered: He's a baker. "Then take a break."

I nod. "Okay. I can get one of the Capitol people to help if you want?" There has to be some on here. They cook, clean, guard, take care of us. It _is _their job.

"No thanks, I don't want them." I understand. The Capitol people can be a little . . . strange. So I head back to my room.

I put on some nightclothes and lay under the covers. All I can think about is the Games. How am I going to get food? I remember most of the plants, but what if the arena is just a barren wasteland? What will I do then? I remember picking dandelions with Katniss. We picked and picked, then found lots of other plants to eat. I memorized the plant book Father had before he died. I should be okay as long as it's not barren, but I need meat. Meat will keep me strong, healthy. It'll be my best defense.

How am I going to survive? I'll have to learn a lot. Fighting, defense, camofluage. Probably the second and last one over anything. Cupiss and I sometimes find berries in the opening at school. We use it like chalk, making pictures on the ground and on each other. We only use the ones that aren't poisonous, but don't taste good. That way, we're not wasting anything good, and we're safe. I think camoflauge would be the better thing to do.

What about Katniss? What are she and Mother doing right now? This is my first night away from home. I want Mother. I want Katniss. I want Buttercup and Gale and Cupiss. I want Lady and the bakery's window so I can look at the cakes. I want berries and rotten fruit so I can paint on Cupiss and myself. I want my old food, not this rich stuff the Capitol has. I want home.

Finally, as my tears died down, the rocking of the train shook me to sleep, and I felt horrible throughout the night.

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><p>I didn't feel as horrible when I woke up in the morning. I quickly put on a soft golden-like shirt with a light-blue jean pants. My black shoes were looking dull and broken, so I found a pair like them and slipped them on. Peeta was in the dining room when I entered. "Good morning," he said.<p>

"Good morning," I whispered, keeping my head down and slipping into one of the nice Capitol chairs. I was immediately surrounded by all sorts of delecacies. Eggs, ham, bacon, orange juice, and some dark brown liquid I didn't recognize. I remember my mother drinking something similar on ocasion. Coffee, I believe. I turned up my nose.

"They call it hot chocolate," Peeta says. Haymitch returns to the dining area. He was originally staring out the window. "It's really good." I notice Peeta holding a similar cup with the same substance in it. So I pick up the cup. It smells good. Chocolate aroma is something I've only smelt while going to look in the bakery windows. I take a sip. Is this what chocolate tastes like? No wonder it's so expensive. If it tastes this good, it has to be worth a lot. I take another sip. Another. And another until my whole cup is gone. I can barely stuff more in myself, but I don't scarf it all down. I would throw up. We wouldn't want another scene, now would we?

"So," I begin after wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Haymitch, you're our mentor?" Haymitch nods, not looking up from his food. "Aren't you supposed to give us advice?"

Haymitch sets down his drink and looks at me. "Here's some advice; stay alive!" He practically screams. Then he starts laughing like a maniac. It scares me a little. Seeing him laugh like that. I look at Peeta. He's staring at Haymitch, then he turns to me. My eyes are wide already, but when Peeta does something, my eyes grow wider.

"Very funny," Peeta says. He suddenly knocks the spirits out of Haymitch's grip. "Only not to us." Haymitch only look appalled for a minute before punching Peeta in the jaw. Peeta lost his balance and stumbled back. He didn't wait another second. In a blink, Peeta aims for Haymitch's eye. Haymitch dodges and reaches for his spirits. I knock the remainder of the bottle away and stomp on his foot. Hard.

Haymitch is about to hit me when he reconsiders. "Did I get a fighter this year?" Haymitch asks Peeta.

Peeta doesn't dare take down his glare towards Haymitch. "A pair."

Haymitch looks at me for a minute. "Her? I don't see what she can do."

Peeta glances my way and turns to Haymitch. "A lot. What about that little boy who one the last Quater Quell?" I look at Haymitch and remember that year. The 50th Quater Quell has to be the worst one, even though there's only been two. That year, twice the number of tributes were drawn. Using his wits and no alcohol, Haymitch won and was crowned victor.

Haymitch nods. "Stand over here." We stand side by side, Peeta and me. He circles around us, poking us, lifting our arms, grabbing our heads and circling them around and around. "You'll need work," He's looking at Peeta. "But I think you'll make it. You're at the bakery, right?" Peeta nods. "Camoflauge. Weights. Those will probably be your strenghts."

"He does the cakes." I say, barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?" Haymitch says, turning to me.

"He does the cakes in the window view. They're really nice," I say, louder.

"Ah," Haymitch sighs. "What do you do? Play hide-and-go-seek all day?"

"No. I'm a medic. A nurse." My voice is growing louder as I realize how desperate I am to get home.

"Is that so? You might make it through the first week. What kind of paitents do you have?" It takes me a second to digest what he's trying to say.

"All sorts. Most of the miners from the explosion were at our house." I remembered my father. His last words. His last breath. He was at my side when he died.

"Yeah? I imagine you know a lot about plants."

I nod. "Her father had a whole book," Peeta says. "Her sister is great with a bow and arrow. She has to have some fight in her." I look at Peeta. Why is he being so nice to me? I'm never going to make it, and if I make it, he won't. What exactly is his plan?

"I'm only good with a knife if I'm cutting open someone."

"Well, if you want to make it home, you'll have to learn to cut from a distance. Don't think you can hide throughout the Games. No, you'll have to fight. A victor _is_ a victor."

"So you'll help us?" Peeta asks.

Haymitch nods. "Yes, but you have to do exactly what I say. No exceptions!" We nod. "Good. You'll be with you stylists in a minute. Don't object. Do whatever they say. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Peeta says.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"Good." Haymitch walks away. Peeta and I stand in silence as the room becomes unbelievibally dark. It reminds me of the coal mines. Going deeper, deeper, deeper, until you stop and start mining. The you go up again at the end of the day. Light plays with your vision after being down for so long. An unexpected light means an explosion. That's why when the light of the Capitol comes, I go down like a weight dropped on me. Then I realize I'm alive and head to the window.

Everything is so different. The people are all so different. Fat, skinny, short, tall, bright and bouncy, or dark and mysterious. Most are dressed in such unusual ways. Some babble on and on to the people beside them, walking in pairs or groups of three. Others stay silent, keep their heads low and personality lower. As the train continues, people start seeing us. They turn around to wave. Some blow kisses. Probably to Peeta, but I wave and smile at the people anyway. They seem so nice.

"It's amazing," I say to Peeta.

"Some may be rich," He tells me.

I realize that Peeta's more focused on the Games then I am. I like the bright buildings, the cheerful people, and especially the bussle of city shops. Clothing stores, food stores, people can even go inside, sit down, and pay for food to be brought to them! Peeta thinks about sponsers. About life and death. I know I'll never stand a chance in that arena, because all I want to do is forget about it.

And I do-for a moment.

* * *

><p>Venia, Octavia, and Flavius take me into a room where they begin working on my skin. I'm bathed and shaved until I feel like a plucked chicken. I'm starting to question Haymitch's orders already. Why must I look good for people? Will it get me sponsers? I think about it. Yes. The good-looking tributes usually get the most sponsers. I remember one man-Finnick O'dair-who looked like 'an absolute prince' as my mother called it. Even Katniss admited that he looked pretty good before sticking her tongue out at the picture of him on the screen. I couldn't help smiling to myself.<p>

"I bet you're happy," Venia pipes in her silly accent. She's wearing an aqua complexion. Her hair, her eyes, her lips, they're all blue. Everything is that color except for the shimmering gold tattoos above her eyebrows. Capitol people, why are they always like this? "You're almost done."

Octavia bounces up and down. She's a short, plump woman with a pale, pea-green complexion much like Venia's. "Then we'll get Cinna! Oh, you're going to love him!" She squels. She babbles on and on throughout my last torture. They grease me down as Flavius, a man with orange hair and purple lips, ordered. It stings my skin at first, but after a second the burning sensation is over, and I relax.

"Octavia," Flavius demands, "Go get Cinna. She's ready." I feel like a piece of meat they're preparing for the Games. Nothing more than a pawn, an avatar, and they batter me to prepare me for one person? What is he like?

Venia, Octavia, and Flavius leave the room when Cinna enters. He doesn't meet my expectations. He looks normal, not battered and pulled like all the other Capitol people. Untouched, dark-brown hair and tan olive skin, he looks like someone from 12. The only sign of Cinna being from the Capitol is the gold eyeliner which, although I hate to admit, bring out the flecks in his eyes. "Good afternoon," He greets with a small smile.

"Good afternoon, you must be Cinna." I say.

"Yes, and you must be Primrose."

"I go by Prim."

Cinna chuckles lightly and starts circling me. I have no robe on. He isn't touching me, but he's still taking in every inch of my skin. "Are you new? I don't think I've seen you before," I say. Most of the stylists are recognizable, being seen year after year.

Cinna nods. "Yes, this is my first year."

"So you got District 12?" I ask.

"I asked for it," He answers. Before I can say anything else, he tells me, "Why don't you put your robe back on and follow me?"

He leads me into a room with three bare walls and one of glass. Its two red couches pop out against the dark green background. A low table is in between the two couches. Cinna takes one, and I take the other.

"So, what do you have planned?" I ask. I pull out my necklace from the robe and play with it in my hands.

"Well, Portia, Peeta's stylist, and I thought we should go for a look more, say, complementary. As you know, the costumes are to reflect the the District's flavor. Their speciality."

I like how Cinna puts things. It makes me feel calm. District 12's "speciality" is coal. 11's is agriculture, District 4 is fishing, factories belong to 3, and so on. Our costumes usually aren't the best, considering one year our tributes were _stark naked_ and covered in coal powder.

"So, I'll be in a coal miner's outfit?" I ask.

"Not exactly. See, Portia and I think that the 'coal' thing is too overdone. We feel that it's our job to make the tributes unforgettable, and rather than focus on the coal mining, we think we should focus on the coal itself, and what do we do with coal?" Before I can question him, he adds, "We burn it."

"What are you planning?" I ask.

Cinna smiles. "Before I say this, let me add, I truly do love your necklace."

* * *

><p><em><strong>End Of Chapter 3: Haymitch &amp; Cinna<strong>_

**A/N:**** I'm not trying to make Prim sound too tough. Sorry if she does seem that way, but I'll never know unless you tell me. Forgive me if I make it sound a lot like the book. I promise, it'll be a whole lot different in the arena. Although, I'm considering somehow incorperating the Tracker-Jacker scene in here. It's one of my favorite scenes. **

**Question: ****What's your favorite scene in either each book or the whole trilogy? My answer would have to be the Tracker-Jacker scene in **_**The Hunger Games,**_** the Mockingjay dress in**_** Catching Fire**_** (that was **_**Catching Fire,**_** right?), and the whole Coin/Snow thing in**_** Mockingjay.**_** No spoilers.**

**Reviews are appreciated! I hope you enjoyed :)**


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